Danny Kowalski gave up stand-up comedy at thirty and took a job driving a cab through the Hollywood night. He brought two habits with him: the comedian's eye for what a room is really doing, and a notebook. Three months in, the notebook is full of patterns he can't yet explain - a name that keeps surfacing, a storage facility with orange doors, a patrol car idling with its lights off. Someone is in those doors who doesn't want to be there.
Danny drives. He writes things down. He waits for it to make sense.
Danny Kowalski gave up stand-up comedy at thirty and took a job driving a cab through the Hollywood night. He brought two habits with him: the comedian's eye for what a room is really doing, and a notebook. Three months in, the notebook is full of patterns he can't yet explain - a name that keeps surfacing, a storage facility with orange doors, a patrol car idling with its lights off. Someone is in those doors who doesn't want to be there.
Danny drives. He writes things down. He waits for it to make sense.